


The Power of Choice

by ChibiTabatha



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Destiny Has A Laugh at Geralt's Expense, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, First Kiss, Geraskier Week, Jaskier | Dandelion Whump, M/M, My First Work in This Fandom, Poor Life Choices, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:48:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22774411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChibiTabatha/pseuds/ChibiTabatha
Summary: They say your soulmate is scribed on your wrist. Their name in blue, black, or gold on your skin. Those without a name, or a line to indicate that their other half hasn't come into this world, well what use could Destiny have with them? Too bad for Geralt who curses the fates and destiny, they'll have the last laugh.
Relationships: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 10
Kudos: 493





	The Power of Choice

**Author's Note:**

> Hello new friends! This is my first work, and I love me some good solid angst. So I hope you like this too!
> 
> Also thanks to my friend kaiju_wars on discord for strong arming me into posting this. And supporting my terrible writing habits.

They say when you're born, there's a name on your wrist. A person destined to be in your life. A soulmate.  
  
The name isn't always there, sometimes that person hasn't been born yet. Just a faint line on one's wrist, in a faint blue, black, or gold color. Very few are born without that line, or name. Even Witchers, who are said to be soulless, have a name or line on their wrist.  
  
Geralt never had a line on his wrist, never cared to know why. When he saw through the winters how Vesemir's had changed from a line, to a name, to a line, he wasn't sure how that would ever affect that other person. How it would affect the elder.  
  
Vesemir always seemed to stay at Kaer Morhen, except when the line would change into a name. He would leave that spring, traveling until the next winter. He always came back with a new gwent deck, a purse full of coins, and stories to share of his many varied hunts. Never speaking of the name on his wrist, where they might be, or what he had done.  
  
Lambert also had a name on his wrist, but his seemed to never change. A mage most likely, more doubtful would be a fellow Witcher from another school. Yet the dark haired man never said a word about it. The only indication he even thought about it was with a soft brush of a thumb over the name when he thought no one was looking.  
  
Eventually, in the shit town of Posada he met a bard. An annoying human who seemed to natter on and on and on. Nothing seemed to shut him up. Or deter him. Not even a swift punch to the gut. Nor getting tied up and beaten.  
  
They separated and came together on the road frequently enough that the gentle sounds of the elven lute no longer grated along his nerves. The sound of the bard's voice seemed to flow with the natural sounds around them.  
  
When Jaskier asked him to come to Cintra with him, he found he hardly had a choice. Even being forced to bathe was a task in and of itself for the human.  
  
So when Geralt found himself in the hot water, and the bard hadn't left yet, he found himself curious as to what was next. He watched the man shed his doublet, roll his sleeves up and then search through his belongings for who knew what scented product. When the bard turned and threw salts and herbs into his bath water, he saw the flash of his barren wrist.  
  
No line, no name.  
  
After being mocked by destiny gifting him a child surprise and getting banned from Cintra, Geralt and Jaskier parted. Geralt headed to Kaer Morhen to winter, and the bard to wherever the man went when they were apart.  
  
"Vesemir." Geralt found the old man sitting in the old library, pouring over scrolls.  
  
  
"Hm? Oh, Geralt!" The elder witcher put down the scroll in his hands.  
  
"I have questions." Ever the eloquent speaker.  
  
Vesemir just laughed before motioning to a pair of chairs facing each other in front of a low burning hearth. "Of course my boy. A hunt gone wrong? A creature found lurking in an odd spot?"  
  
"About destiny. About soulmates." He took the seat across from the older witcher, their golden eyes locking for a moment.  
  
Vesemir gently touched the name scrawled over his wrist, Robyn. "Why?"  
  
"I found a human, like me he has no name. No line. Smooth skin untouched by destiny. Yet now I find destiny mocking me with a child surprise. There must be a reason."  
  
Vesemir's mouth turned up at the mention of the Law of Surprise, but maintained a neutral expression. "Children untouched by destiny don't exist. More than likely he will live for the people. Like you have."  
  
Geralt found himself frowning. "Living for the people?"  
  
"He is a bard, so his heart will belong to many. Not everyone finds their soulmate. Some humans may not even love their soulmate. Soulmates are odd, some find themselves paired with another man, or another woman, some bound to someone much older or younger."  
  
"How do you deal with yours?"  
  
Vessimir startled slightly, pupils widening. "What?"  
  
"We're quiet, not stupid. You only leave when the name changes."  
  
Vesemir laughed again, this time less hearty and more hollow. "I find them. I leave them with a gift and a letter. Geralt, we're witchers. A name on a wrist would not allow us to be with that person, no matter the beliefs."  
  
Geralt nodded, "Hmm."

* * *

When next he found the bard, it was more like the bard found him. Geralt was desperately searching for a djinn he had heard was abandoned in the river. All he wanted was sleep.  
  
Now all he had was a mess on his hands.  
  
Jaskier broke the vessel, blood poured from his mouth. Even with exhaustion tugging at his mind, he hauled the bard to the nearest healer. Then when the elf said he could do nothing, but a mage might be able to save him, he hauled him towards the mage as well.  
  
The wet rasping sounds unsettled Geralt, it wasn't a sound he ever wanted to hear from the human.  
  
He told the mage he would do anything to save the bard. A witcher in debt was almost unheard of.  
  
Then he made a wish that would change everything.

* * *

Yennefer's name was on his wrist, not in the typical blue, black, or gold. Angry red stared up at him from his wrist.  
  
He had bound them together. When he saw his own name on her delicate wrist something in him preened at the idea.  
  
All thoughts of the smooth skin of the bard's wrist seemed to float away on his new high.

* * *

"Damn it, Jaskier! Why is it, every time I find myself in a pile of shit these days, it's you shoveling it!" The volatile words ripped from his throat.  
  
"Well that's not fair," the sound of the other's voice was soft, hurt.  
  
"The Child Surprise, the djinn, all of it! If life could give one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands!" He watched as different emotions flashed through blue eyes.  
  
"Right." Jaskeir seemed to mentally shake himself. "Uh, Right then." His weight shifted to move. "I'll-" a pause, "-I'll go get the rest of the story from the others." The weight of the man's voice changed slightly, "See you around, Geralt."  
  
But he didn't see the bard back at camp. Or at the foot of the mountain. Nor was he playing in the tavern nearest the mountain.  
  
The few possessions the bard left with Geralt during their days apart seemed to have disappeared from Roach's saddle bags. No other items were touched. The mare herself seemed sullen and upset with her rider. No coaxing could get her to divulge if she saw the human.

* * *

Ciri was training with Vesemir and Eskel. Geralt watched from one of the towers as the wooden swords rang out, their voices soft enough to hear the tone but not the words.  
  
"Name's new."  
  
Geralt turns at the sound of Lambert's voice.  
  
"You haven't been wintering here."  
  
The silence that spread between them was a conversation in and of itself.  
  
"I've been wintering with Aiden."  
  
"Hmm."  
  
"Haven't heard any stories about your human, that their name? You magic it there like you got your child surprise?"  
  
The growl from Geralt's throat was unintended. "No."  
  
One of Lambert's eyebrows rose in suspicion.  
  
"She's a mage."  
  
"And your human bard?"  
  
Guilt seemed to wrap around his heart and squeeze it. He'd essentially sent the man away with nothing but harsh words. "He's somewhere."  
  
At that Lambert shrugged and walked off.

* * *

"Where is Jaskier?"  
  
Geralt startled at the name, "Sorry?"  
  
Ciri frowns, "You're a witcher, you heard me."  
  
The witcher frowned, who was teaching her this level of sass, Vesemir? "I don't know."  
  
"What do you mean, you don't know? He wrote so many ballads about you. Not that I was allowed to listen to them, or anyone for that matter."  
  
Geralt blinked, "What?"  
  
"Again. Witcher. Vesemir said you were thick." Geralt frowned at her before tilting his head. "He would come to Cintra during the winter sometimes. He wasn't welcome during the warmer weather. Grandmother insisted he do nothing more than teach me literature. Unbeknownst to her, he would occasionally sing to me."  
  
So he wintered in Cintra, teaching his child surprise.  
  
"I don't know where he is." Ciri frowned. "Study your scrolls."

* * *

Spring came, and with it came his usual departure from Kaer Morhen. A soft kiss to Ciri's head, a gentle promise to be back. He had to find Yennefer. Had to find Jaskier.  
  
Yen was much easier to track. A powerful mage attracts attention.  
  
Convincing her to help Ciri was easier said than done. But eventually she conceded. The girl needed to harness her powers before Nilfgaard advanced again.  
  
Finding his bard was much harder.  
  
Every tavern and inn had some troubadour or trobairitz playing songs he could tell were Jaskier's. The way the notes seemed to float and dance amongst the words, they way they could crash against the walls of your heart to bring out feelings you thought were buried.  
  
Her Sweet Kiss made him realize how deeply he had wounded the musician. No matter who was playing or who was singing, he could see that hurt look in blue eyes. Could hear the hurt in his voice, soft sounding as if to hide the sound to even Geralt's senses.  
  
Jaskier had succeeded in a way. Geralt had let him go, listening to hollow words. Busy thinking about how he had bound another to him, the angry red of her name staring at him even through his vambraces.  
  
"Ah, have you heard?" Geralt's ears perked up.  
  
"Yes yes! The bard of the White Wolf is going to be performing in Oxenfurt!"  
  
"Valdo Marx will be there too, it will be an event for all to behold!"  
  
Geralt moved away from the tittering women. Urging Roach towards Oxenfurt.

* * *

Apparently the rumor mill was stronger than he thought. There was no event, no Valdo Marx. No Jaskier.  
  
Roach shook her mane, upset with how hard he had pushed her. Patting her flank, he muttered that he would let them rest. Perhaps someone would know where Jaskier was.  
  
The stable hands had no clue. They pointed him towards the tavern, which Geralt thanked them for, a few extra coins pressed into their palms.  
  
There was a hush coming from the tavern, hardly the usual crowd the witcher would expect from mid-morning.  
  
"-Weak my love, and I am wanting. If this is the path I must trudge, I welcome my sentence. Give to you my penance. Garroter, jury, and judge." The feeling of the song was different, an undercurrent of anger tinging the words. Even with the soft, aching notes being pulled from the elven lute.  
  
Geralt had tuned out the rest of the song in favor of just drinking in the sight of the bard. The man's blue eyes were shut, but his soft brown hair fell against his eyelids, longer than Geralt had seen it yet. The usual bright colors of his silks non-existent, the simple grey doublet was almost morose.  
  
As if the bard could feel his gaze, he shifted, blue eyes fluttering open to lock directly with gold. A pained smile spread over his face as he collected his coin. Jaskier hardly looked at the witcher as he brushed past.  
  
"Jaskier," he called after the bard.  
  
The bard's motion halted, his head dipped slightly. "Geralt."  
  
"I've been looking for you."  
  
"Well, it seems you've found me. But I must be on my way. The open road and all that." Geralt reached for the bard, fingers wrapping around his wrist. "Geralt. Please."  
  
"No."  
  
The smaller man tore his wrist out from the witcher's grip. "I heard Yennefer was south of here. You should go." The bard exited the tavern and into the sun.  
  
Geralt wasn't about to let the bard slip his grasp this time. He rushed after the bard, this time grasping the man by his bicep. "Jaskier."  
  
"Geralt, stop this."  
  
"Would you listen to me?" Geralt spun the bard to look him in the eye. "I am here for you. Not for Yen. Not for the child surprise. Not even for a contract. I am here. For you."  
  
Blue eyes widened and filled with tears. "Please no."  
  
"I had the power of choice. I chose wrong. I uttered the words that pushed you away. The one person who always chose me. I can't ask for you to choose me again. But I don't want to make the same mistake again."  
  
The sharp scent of salt was released as tears dripped over Jaskier's cheeks. "More muscles than brain. That's what my witcher has, hasn't he?"  
  
"He sure does." He tugged the bard into his arms, careful of the lute on his back. "I'm sorry Jaskier."  
  
"Geralt, you absolute, precious, idiot."  
  
"Doesn't sound like you forgive me."  
  
The musician's arms clung tighter to the tall man. "That will come in time."  
  
"Fair."  
  
"I heard rumor, of a noon wraith haunting the fields east of here."  
  
"Mmm."  
  
"It might make for an interesting ballad?"  
  
"Mmm."  
  
"Geralt?"  
  
"Shut up and let me hold you a little longer."  
  
Strong, calloused fingers shifted his face, soft lips brushing the side of his mouth. "We'll have time for that later. Noon will be upon us soon."  
  
"Fine."  
  
Geralt felt the small smile tugging at his lips even as the bard slipped from his grip. Whatever time left the human had, the witcher was going to give him all of what he had left. 

**Author's Note:**

> So if you liked this let me know. I have a couple more things lined up, so expect a little more from me this week!
> 
> If you wanna holler at me, come do it over on [tumblr](https://chibitabathasloves.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
